


This Is Not My Beautiful House

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stages of acceptance. Three conversations: Kurt + Burt, Kurt + Elliott, Kurt + Blaine</p><p>set after 5x14 (“New New York”), no spoilers beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not My Beautiful House

**Author's Note:**

> the title is taken from Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime"

Kurt doesn’t tell his father for two days after he and Blaine decide Blaine should move out. Partly he’s busy helping Mercedes and seeing his friends, partly he’s taking the time to appreciate these last days together with Blaine, and partly he doesn’t think he should be leaning on his father hundreds of miles away when he’s an adult and has friends here in New York.

Mostly, though, he waits to call because it’s never been easy for him to admit that he’s failed.

And they have failed.

He and Blaine are in love, but they’ve failed. When he pulls apart the situation to its bones, he doesn’t know how to look at it any other way. They tried to live together, and they can’t do it. It doesn’t work. Being together so much doesn’t _work_ , no matter how much they want it to. They’re trying to make smart decisions so it doesn’t break them apart for good, and he’s comforted by the fact that they’re fully on the same page there, but at the end of the day they’ve still just _failed_.

That truth is a sick, heavy weight in the pit of his stomach when he picks up the phone, stands by his bed in the currently empty loft, breathes through his nose, and presses his father’s name in his contact list. But it’s what happened, and it’s not like he can hide it or even escape a phone conversation about it. He needs to get it over with.

“Hey, Kurt,” his dad says after a couple of rings. The sounds of hydraulic lifts, metal tools, and men’s voices come through the speaker; he must be at the garage. “How’s my favorite NYADA student? Takin’ Broadway by storm?”

“Not yet,” Kurt says with something of a smile, his eyes closing to hear his father’s familiar, comforting voice, his safe haven throughout his whole life. “But I’m working on it.”

“I know you are,” his dad replies. “How are you doing? How’s Blaine?”

Over the past months since the engagement, Kurt’s father has always made a special point to ask after Blaine right away; he often did when they were dating, but since Blaine proposed Kurt’s dad has treated him like a member of the family. He asks after Rachel, too, and Sam, but it’s always Kurt first, then Blaine soon after.

That level of acceptance has thrilled and grounded Kurt; it’s made him sure of himself in a whole new way, thinking of Blaine as family and knowing his dad felt the same way. It’s been like a stamp of approval on the deepest feelings in his heart. But now... now it makes him feel short of breath and weak-kneed instead of invigorated, because things aren’t what he wanted them to be. Not at all.

“He’s, um... He’s okay,” Kurt says, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “We’re okay, but Blaine’s moving out. We decided he...” Wrapping an arm around his roiling stomach, he swallows and tries to keep a smile on his face and in his words. “We decided it’s for the best right now if we don’t live together.”

“Kurt.” His father’s voice is hushed, and there’s the sound of a door shutting and silence instead of the sounds of the garage. He must have gone into his office. “What happened over there? Want to talk about it?” he asks with gentle concern.

Kurt shakes his head, but there’s a sharp tug in his stomach like a hook being pulled by a line, and he can feel his face crumple. He doesn’t want to fall apart, he wants to be brave and mature, but he can’t help it when it’s his dad asking. This is too important. He feels it all too deeply.

He sinks down on the edge of his bed. _His_ bed. Still shared, but not for long. “It’s not working, Dad,” he admits in a miserable whisper, sick in his heart. “I mean, some of it is. We still love each other. We’re still a couple. But living together... I don’t know. We’re both getting lost. We’re getting hurt. It’s too much.”

“It’s hard,” his dad tells him kindly. “Living together. It changes everything, some for good and some not so good. It’s a big step.”

Kurt nods, but his face tightens even more, because he remembers his dad telling him that before he got engaged, but he also remembers his father wishing for all of that with his mother again, being willing to take all of the bad with the good just for a few minutes more of her, and Kurt... he has the chance to fight for it and have it, but he’s letting Blaine go instead.

“It’s...” Kurt tries to find the right words, but he’s not sure there are any. “I think it’s harder for Blaine, maybe, but it’s... We both need more space. He needs to see New York for himself. He needs to _be_ himself, not just be with me. And I need that, too.”

He swallows down the lump in his throat even as his eyes grow damp, because in a strange way he feels like he’s giving up and letting his dad down by not being able to make it work when he _should_. They’re so deeply in love, and he feels like it should just work. But for some reason it isn’t. “I don’t know what else to do.”

His father is silent for a long moment, and then he says, “Kurt, you’ve just got to make the best decisions you can. You’re both young. I know you don’t feel like it, but you’re still kids. You’ve got time to figure it out. It’s not a bad thing to let yourselves grow up. That way you’re both your own people, you know? You still don’t know who that is at your age. Blaine, especially.”

Kurt nods again, because he knows he’s had a year to live on his own in this city, while Blaine hasn’t. He knows how badly things go when Blaine feels he doesn’t have a life outside of him. His dad isn’t wrong.

It’s not bad for them both to feel more independent in their lives, either. He’s always imagined them becoming a New York power couple, and power couples need two strong partners in control of their lives and each standing on his own two feet. Living apart should help them toward that goal, too. It will make them even more amazing in the future, and he wants them to be their very, very best. He wants that bright, wonderful future with Blaine.

His face crumples again, though, because he can’t help but fear that as much as they love each other it’s entirely possible that this space between them won’t be enough to fix them. He knows that it’s good that they can talk about it and figure things out together, but it still feels like a failure. It feels like an ending. A part of his heart is shattering in slow motion at the thought that living together doesn’t _work_. Does that mean being together doesn’t work, too?

“But we’re _engaged_ ,” Kurt says, his voice faint even to his own ears. “We love each other, we’re supposed to get married, and we can’t even live together.” It makes no sense when he thinks about it that way. If they’re so perfect for each other, should it be that hard? Maybe they really are a mess beneath the surface, like that horrible, bug-ridden couch.

He’d thought, in his naiveté, that by accepting Blaine’s ring they were both promising not to hurt each other in major ways anymore, that they were only going to move forward, that it was going to be the two of them together always... and that's not true. It clearly isn't true.

“Would you say yes again if he asked you today?” his father asks him.

“Yes,” Kurt says without hesitation, because he _loves_ Blaine, loves him more than anything, and he wants his life and his future to be with him. As much as he can’t wait for Blaine to take the SodaStream away for good, he doesn’t want _Blaine_ to leave his life, not ever. He’s too important. He’s Kurt’s heart. He’s _Blaine_. “I would.”

“And do you think his feelings have changed for you about that?”

There’s no question in Kurt’s mind about the answer to that question. “No.”

“Then what does it matter if you’re engaged but in different apartments for a while? You still want to get married, and lots of people don’t live together until they do. Sometimes they’re even in different states.”

“I know,” Kurt says with a nod, trying to hold onto his father’s calm words as his own fears flare up within him. “I know, but we _are_ living together now, and we _can’t_ , and I - What if we never can? What if we can only do this if we have space? What if we never learn how to be together at all?” It feels ridiculous to say, because they’ve had so much wonderfulness between them over the past few months - endless duets and happily holding hands throughout the city and lots and lots of freedom to explore each other’s bodies - but it wasn’t enough to keep them living together. Maybe it will never be enough.

Maybe _they_ aren’t enough, a small, terrified part of his heart whispers. Maybe all of the magic, all of the fire, all of the romance... maybe none of it is actually enough.

He doesn’t know how that can be true when he feels so deeply in love, but then he’s hurting so much, too, and so is Blaine...

“Well, I heard about this famous author who lived in one half of a duplex while his wife lived in the other,” his dad says dryly.

Kurt’s laugh is barely a puff of air, but it still makes him feel better that he can laugh at all. “Dad, that’s not exactly helping.”

He hears his father take a deep breath. “Kurt, being a grown-up isn’t easy, and there isn’t only one way to do it. You and Blaine will find your way. If that means you aren’t ready to shack up yet, well... most people aren’t at your age.”

Kurt’s fragile heart tightens and cracks again, and he closes his eyes and says in a trembling voice, “But we aren’t most people, Dad.” They’re _them_ , they’re special, they’re supposed to be able to handle everything, they’ve been dreaming and talking about living together for years, and instead they’re splitting apart if not actually splitting up... even if it feels a bit like they are, even if while sitting on that couch with Blaine Kurt could feel his heart _breaking_ that what was supposed to be perfect for them is so, so far from it.

“You’re still human, kid,” his father says gently. “Everything that matters takes hard work. You aren’t born knowing how to do everything.”

“Well...” Kurt doesn’t feel the joke as he says it, but it’s that or let the tears spill over entirely.

His father chuckles. “No, not even you.”

“I think I’m offended,” Kurt says, though he isn’t; he’s _devastated_ instead, not by his father but by so much of what he thought he wanted and had with Blaine going wrong, because he doesn’t even know how to do _that_.

“Look,” his dad says after Kurt breathes around that pain for a minute. “You two love each other, right?”

Kurt wipes at his wet eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “Yes.”

“And you still want to get married, right?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, looking down at the ring on his finger with palpable, bittersweet longing.

“So you’ll get there. Maybe not this month or this year, but you’ll get there.”

Kurt nods, thumbing over his ring with sadness filling his heart. He wants to believe. He does believe, at least a lot of him does, but if he can’t admit his deepest worries to his father he doesn’t know who else he can talk to. He can’t say this to Blaine, to Rachel. “And if we don’t?” he makes himself ask.

“Then you don’t,” his father says with a tenderness that finally makes the tears spill down Kurt’s cheeks. “But that doesn’t mean your life will be over.”

Kurt’s next breath shudders into his lungs with despair - because he knows he’ll somehow survive it if Blaine breaks his heart again, but he doesn’t _want_ it to happen, he wants his future with Blaine so _much_ , he wants _Blaine_ so much - and it’s loud enough he knows his father must hear the emotion in it.

But his dad doesn’t call attention to it. He just says, “My money’s on you, Kurt. It’s always on you.”

Breathing in again once, twice, Kurt calms himself a little, because he knows how hard he’ll work to get what he wants, and whispers, “Thanks, Dad.”

“And you know what?” his father asks after a moment.

“What?”

“My money’s on Blaine, too. That kid _loves_ you.”

Kurt smiles faintly, because that much he knows. “Yeah, he does.”

“So take some pressure off, and enjoy what you have together.” His dad’s voice goes a little gruff. “Only safely, right? And not when you’re supposed to be in school.”

Feeling his cheeks flush hot, Kurt fights the urge to turn his face into his shoulder or check that the bedside drawer with their lube - soon to be _his_ lube, since Blaine won’t live there anymore and will need his own next to his own bed, to use by himself or with Kurt or with someone else if they can’t find a way to make it all work between them, _no_ , he can’t think about that part or he’s going to be sick - is safely shut, not that his father can see any of it. “ _Dad_.”

“Just saying I’m paying a lot of money for you to go to that school, and I want to be sure you’re actually going to those classes you’ve signed up for.”

“Dad!” Kurt laughs down at his feet on the floor. “Yes, I am going to class. And I will keep going,” he promises, and not just because it’s going to be one of the parts of his day when he knows he’ll get to see Blaine. There are suddenly going to be a lot fewer of them, which feels weird after they’ve spent so much time together recently. He wants his own space, yes, but he also really wants to be sure he can get what time with Blaine is available to him.

“All right. It’s part of my job as a dad to ask. Don’t have a lot of responsibilities left, so I’ve got to do my best with what I’ve got.”

“You’re doing great,” Kurt says softly, a part of him wishing he could reach out for a hug, lay his head on his dad’s shoulder, and pour out his tears there where it’s safe and easy.

“So are you, Kurt,” his father replies. “You really are.”

Kurt sobs out a breath and wipes at his eyes as tears run hot and fresh down his cheeks at the unexpected praise in such a hard situation. “I don’t feel like it,” he admits.

“That’s because growing up is hard. But you’re still doing it. And you’re doing it well, taking care of yourself and the people you love. I’m proud of you.”

Kurt presses the side of his shaking hand to his mouth, trying to keep himself from making any more noise than he is, because he’s not supposed to be sad about this. They worked this plan out together, and they did it with kindness and care for each other in a way that kind of floors him when he looks back on it. This is supposed to be a good thing. A smart thing. And he hopes it is, but it still hurts even with the encouragement. “Don’t be proud of me yet. I still don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“We never do,” his dad reminds him. “You’ve just got to make the best choices you can. And you are.”

It’s not so easy for Kurt to be sure of it. He knows if Blaine says he changed his mind and wanted to stay that he’d be tempted to give in. He doesn’t want to be apart. He just wants it to be _easy_.

The problem is that living together right now isn’t easy at all; it’s grinding them both down into people they don’t want to be. The claustrophobia of constant togetherness is making them hurt each other when they should just love each other, the pressures around them turning their sweetness toward each other bitter, their softness toward each other sharp. It’s not all the time, but it’s still too much. It’s not what they want. It’s not who they are. It’s making them less than they can be, less than they _will_ be together if this choice pays off.

And his dad is right; he’s trying to make the right choices to avert total, unthinkable disaster. He’s trying to listen to himself and to Blaine. They’re trying to do this _together_ \- and they _are_ ; it’s a balm to his heart to see that they really _can_ talk honestly, listen with care, and work things out from their heads and their hearts - even if together actually means a little more apart.

Maybe it won’t be enough. Maybe nothing will be. But at least he’s trying. He’s listening to Blaine, and he’s trying to give him what he needs. He’s doing the same for himself. He’s trying.

They both are, because neither of them wants to lose what they have. That’s why Blaine came to him this time instead of holding it all in until he broke. That’s why Kurt didn’t fight him even when he wasn’t sure of Blaine’s solution. That’s why they both talked about it. That’s why they are doing this, because losing each other just isn’t acceptable.

“You shouldn’t listen to me,” Kurt says, taking a breath and rubbing a hand over his face. “I think I’m feeling sorry for myself right now. It’s okay. I hope it will be. We just both need a little space.”

“I’m not surprised; that loft is pretty damn crowded, and college is a pressure cooker, anyway,” his dad replies. He hesitates for a moment, his voice going softer. “But Kurt, it’s okay to be upset about it. I know this has got to be hard for you. I remember how excited you both were when he moved in.”

Kurt nods and presses his eyes shut. They’d been _so_ excited. They’d both thought they had finally reached the future they’d always dreamed of. It had felt so perfect, a high he’d thought he’d coast on for years, forever, and as much as he’s loved having so much time with Blaine the slow degradation of them both made it clear that they pushed too fast, assumed too much about love being the only thing that mattered.

And it _does_ matter. That’s why they’re doing this, so it can still matter, so it can still breathe in the space they both need around them.

“I know,” he sighs out, feeling tears threaten again. “And I’m going to miss him.” He feels the loss already, the loss of Blaine as well as the loss of this dream of their life, at least for now. “But I know it’s the right thing. It has to be the right thing.”

“My money’s still on you both, kid,” his dad tells him, no hint of doubt in his voice, an anchor for Kurt to cling to when everything around him still feels so turbulent and unsettled.

Kurt nods and hopes with all of his heart that his dad’s belief in them and their fervent belief in each other is right.

He hopes it’s enough.

Because whether it is or it isn’t, the reality is that he’s never getting his heart back.

Kurt knows now more than ever - after so much time spent building their life over the past few months, after so much time being saturated by the warmth of Blaine’s affection, after day after day of being with him and falling that much more in love with every little thing that makes Blaine himself - that his heart is truly Blaine’s for good.

*

Kurt helps Blaine pack up and move out, helps carry boxes down to the truck from the loft and up to Blaine’s new apartment, and then he gives Blaine a firm kiss and an encouraging smile and leaves him there to unpack. He knows he has to let Blaine settle in on his own, just like he has to set his room back to rights now that it’s his alone again. They have to claim their own spaces. That’s part of the point, after all.

Kurt has so much more room on his clothing racks and in his drawers without having to leave a place for Blaine’s things, and yet as exciting as the thought of being able to pull his clothes out of storage is and as much as he’d been dreaming for weeks before their talk of being able to go to bed without having to worry about the lights waking Blaine, he just can’t bring himself to go back to the loft right away after he leaves Blaine’s new apartment.

He stands at the end of Blaine’s block and can’t go home.

There are empty spaces in his room now, an empty side of the bed, no one to bring him tea at night, no one to wake him with kisses or blow jobs or pancakes in the morning... and the sudden absence of Blaine is too much like when they broke up for him to feel anything but unsettled. It was one thing this morning with Blaine bustling around, when Kurt had to put on a brave smile and help clear out the space; now in the late afternoon he needs a little time before he makes himself face his unnervingly bare room alone.

So he texts Elliott instead, and a few hours, half a pizza, and too much of a bottle of wine (or possibly two bottles - he hasn’t been paying attention, since his glass keeps being full, which is all that matters) later, he finds himself saying from the other end of Elliott’s couch, “We fought so hard in high school to find time alone together, you know? Not just for sex - although yes, the sex is _amazing_ , _god_ \- but just to _be_ together, and now I feel like we’re giving all that up.”

“But you aren’t,” Elliott tells him calmly around a bite of pizza; Kurt really loves how steady he is. It’s a rare trait among his friends. “It’s not like Sam’s going to give Blaine a curfew or make him leave the door open when you’re there, right?”

“I don’t think Sam would care if he walked in on us, door open or not,” Kurt says and takes a melancholy sip of his wine. “He never even looks surprised.”

“Which is kind of my point,” Elliott says. “You’re not in high school. You both still have your own apartments and your own beds, and you can use them however you want to.”

Kurt thinks of Blaine lying naked and open on his sheets, smiling at him with heated promise from across the room, wet and ready in the shower... He can still have all of that, true, as well as study time and quiet dinners for two and lazy Sunday mornings if they want those things. He still does. He hopes Blaine still will, too; he says he does, at least. “I guess so,” he says. “But it’s not as convenient.”

Elliott laughs and leans forward to pour some more wine in Kurt’s empty glass. “Breaking up would make it even less convenient.”

Kurt pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and he lowers it back to his lap. Breaking up is the last thing he wants. He’s been able to hear the threat of it knocking if not at the door then down the hall, and he’s honestly not sure if it still is, but he’ll do whatever he needs to to keep that possibility out of reach. “Do you think we will?” he asks.

Elliott looks at him with a quiet sort of half-smile, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I know you have something special, but I’ve also seen how unhappy you’ve been. You’ve seemed stifled and frustrated. That’s not the fabulous Kurt I’ve grown to love and admire.”

“I’ve always been able to be fabulous _with_ him before,” Kurt says sadly. Blaine has always made him feel more fabulous, at least until the constant hiss of his stupid soda machine and the even more constant shadow of Blaine at his heels started to make him feel brittle and hounded instead of free. He wants to fly free. He wants to do it all with Blaine at his side, but he doesn’t want to be held so tightly that he can’t spread his wings.

“But you weren’t with him. That’s the thing, right? You just said you guys had a lot of time apart, even before you broke up. Because you were in high school and living at home.”

“Huh.” Kurt sips at his wine and feels thoughts uncurl in his mind in the same slow, warm way the wine is twisting through his veins. “Huh.”

“I mean, I’m just saying,” Elliott says, gesturing with his glass. “What do I know?”

“No,” Kurt says. “You’re right. We did have time apart. Our own classes, our families. We had to fight to spend time together. It made it more special.” And that was what broke them up, too, not fighting for it when it was hard. But they aren’t doing that this time.

A thorny knot of worry deep in Kurt’s chest slips loose. Maybe this _is_ going to be good for them. Maybe they’ve learned something after all.

“Not that the past few months haven’t been special,” Kurt rushes to clarify. “Because they’ve been _incredible_ in some ways.” He sighs at the flood of happy memories sweeping past his slightly unfocused eyes. “Blaine’s baked goods alone...”

“Look, I don’t want to know what weird names you guys have for each other’s dicks,” Elliott says with a laugh.

“Ugh, no,” Kurt tells him, nudging at Elliott’s knee with the toe of his boot. “I meant actual food Blaine bakes.” He tips his head as the room twirls around him. “Although his dick is also incredible. I’m going to miss that, too.” It is always so happy to see him.

“Don’t worry.” Elliott tips his glass up and finishes up his own wine. “I’m sure he’ll find a way to share it with you.”

“Mm. He’s always been very creative about that,” Kurt agrees with a thoughtful blink. “There was this one time right after Rachel moved back that he - “

“Not that I mind hearing,” Elliott interrupts, “but is this a story you’d tell me when you were sober? Because I promised you the last time I’d stop you and ask.”

Kurt contemplates the question, because Blaine had been _amazing_ on his knees with them both on the floor on the far side of the bed, still blowing him as Rachel unexpectedly breezed in to grab her coat while she talked on her phone. He hadn’t let up at all, just almost frantically pushed Kurt over the edge as Rachel clattered around unaware... “You’re probably right,” he says sadly. “Too bad. Blaine did this thing with his tongue...”

“I’m sure it was great.” Elliott neatly scoops Kurt’s empty glass from his hand and gets up off the couch. “And that’s enough wine for you.”

Kurt rolls his neck and stretches his arms up over his head. He feels loose and happy, almost too loose. He likes falling into bed like this with Blaine, because Blaine takes care of him in the very best ways: water, painkillers, and really mellow, needy sex before falling asleep. But Blaine isn’t here, and this isn’t his bed. “You’re right. I should head home.”

Elliott stands beside him, looking down at him with narrowed but kind eyes. “I can help you get a cab,” he says, “but why don’t you just stay here? I’m not sure you can get up the stairs to your apartment in this state.”

“What? I’m fine.” Kurt struggles, flails, and ultimately fails to sit up, and he falls heavily back against the arm of the couch. It’s so much work to make his limbs do what he wants them to, but he knows he can do it. Getting upright is always the hardest part. “I really should - “ he begins, because he knows he’s supposed to be at home. Blaine will be expecting him, and he gets so worried if Kurt stays out too much later than planned without letting him know... no, wait.

No. Blaine isn’t waiting. He’s not home, not at _their_ home. They don’t have a home. There’s just Kurt’s room. Kurt’s bed. Kurt’s sheets that still smell of Blaine’s hair product and body, and there’s no way he can even decide tonight whether or not he wants to change them right away. He’d just have to sleep all alone in those cold sheets, surrounded by that reminder of Blaine.

Kurt’s stomach twists and falls, and for a moment he feels like he’s going to be sick. Blaine’s not _there_. Blaine _left_. Left the apartment, left _him_.

Blaine’s not there anymore.

Kurt doesn’t have to go home to him after all. He can’t.

But as much as that makes him desperately, achingly sad, another part of Kurt’s heart also rises up into his throat in a good way, because he doesn’t have to struggle through this muzzy haze of merlot and stuffed crust pizza to get home to Blaine. He’s free to do what he wants again. He doesn’t have to worry about Blaine being worried. He can stay, because he doesn’t have to answer to Blaine every minute anymore.

He can just do what he wants. Not things that hurt Blaine, obviously, but not everything is about Blaine anymore. And that feels really... good.

“Huh,” Kurt says again.

He’s almost forgotten what it was like last year without him, getting to be his own independent person and make his own choices without having to worry about other people. He likes that. He’s great at it. He loves Blaine and very much likes including him in his life, but he suddenly can take a much deeper breath without having to do it every second of the day.

He can just decide what’s best for himself and do it.

Kurt finds himself smiling up at Elliott, who smiles back. “I’ll stay.”

“Let me get you a blanket,” Elliott says, patting Kurt’s booted foot. “And a trash can in case that wine doesn’t want to stay down.”

“Okay,” Kurt says. “Although I haven’t been throwing-up drunk since high school.” He wiggles down more horizontally on the couch, pulling his phone from his jeans pocket as he does. His smile only turns a little bittersweet to see Blaine’s face on his lock screen, because right now it feels really _good_ not to have worry about anyone else’s schedules or happiness but his own.

He flips to his messaging app, because even though he doesn’t have to include Blaine in all of his decisions he does want to say good night.

Kurt to Blaine: _Sleep well. Love you._

He gets a reply pretty much immediately.

Blaine to Kurt: _It’s going to be a little weird without you tonight, but Sam’s making a blanket fort. I’ll take pictures! I love you._

His smile fading as reality sinks in a little more - Blaine’s already starting new traditions in his new home, which is what he’s supposed to be doing but which is still tough to think about - and his chest suddenly burning with the raw ache at the distance between them, a new wrongness and an old memory of longing from so long apart, Kurt looks up and around Elliott’s living room, at nothing that reminds him of Blaine but still a space that makes him feel safe. He’s spent countless days here hanging out, playing music, and talking with someone he knows cares about him.

Kurt breathes out softly and is grateful to be on this couch instead of at home. This is definitely better than being in his empty bed, too aware of everything that’s changed. Just for tonight. Tomorrow he’ll go back and pull everything together just as he likes it, but, yes, this is better for tonight.

Kurt to Blaine: _See you Monday? @ school and dinner?_

Blaine to Kurt: _I wouldn’t miss it. <3 <3 <3 xoxo Call you tomorrow._

Kurt to Blaine: _< 3 xoxo_

Kurt shuts off his phone, closing his eyes in sadness at the thought of phone calls tomorrow instead of talks over mugs of tea at the table, but he reminds himself that he’ll still see Blaine all the time. Probably almost every day. Not just _all_ the time all day long every day.

It’s just a little distance between him and Blaine; it’s not the end of everything.

The end of everything is exactly what he’s trying to avoid. They _both_ are. It’s not Kurt alone; it’s still Kurt and Blaine doing this together.

He takes a breath and finds that his chest doesn’t hurt. It’s okay. He can do this. He’s just really glad he doesn’t have to do it alone at home tonight.

“Here we go,” Elliott says, coming back with a folded blanket over his arm and a metal trash can in his hand. “Want to take your boots off first?”

“Mm,” Kurt says and reaches for the blanket. The fabric is soft and warm against his fingers, like a big fuzzy cat to curl up with him. It’s not Blaine, but it will be a nice substitute. “Later. I’m sure I’ll feel better when I wake up in an hour or two.”

“After drinking that much wine, I’m not sure you’re going to feel better when you wake up no matter when it is,” Elliott says dryly, but he helps drape the blanket over Kurt and puts the trash can beside his head. “I’ll bring you some water, too.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says with a little wave. Elliott is a good friend. He was just the right person to call today.

Filled with a deep sense of satisfaction at the reminder that he can make good choices to take care of himself even without Blaine to jump in and help the way he likes to, Kurt snuggles against the throw pillow beneath his head, curls his fingers into the blanket, and lets the motion of the couch rock him toward sleep.

*

“I made finger sandwiches and cucumber salad,” Kurt announces with a quick inhalation and a ready smile when Blaine approaches the table Kurt has just claimed in the NYADA dining hall. It’s a little two-top by the windows, as secluded as they can be in a room full of people, and he pulls out a small red and white checked cloth from his bag and covers the table with it with a practiced flourish, because if they’re going to have a lunch date then he wants to be sure to make it special.

Blaine’s face is alight with happiness, his eyes fixed on Kurt’s face, and it makes Kurt’s heart flip to see him, just the way it always did when Blaine walked down the hall toward him at McKinley and Dalton. Not that they hadn’t seen each other last night at their Monday potluck in the loft or earlier today in their classes, but he’s had a few days without Blaine living with him, and he’s already missing so much about him.

He’s missing Blaine’s smiles. He’s missing Blaine’s easy touches and gentle care for him. He’s missing Blaine’s warmth at night, even though he’s loving being able to spread out.

He’s really missing Blaine’s delicious breakfasts in bed, too, if he’s honest.

As much as Kurt needs this change, there are a lot of things about Blaine he wouldn’t have minded continuing to be able to take for granted.

Blaine puts his bag on his chair and pulls out a plastic container. “I made cookies!” he replies, and if Kurt’s smile widens he can pretend it’s partly for Blaine’s enthusiasm and not for just the promise of his baking. “Oatmeal chocolate chip.”

“Oooh,” Kurt says and doesn’t have to fake his excitement at all.

Blaine sets the cookies on the table, steps to his side, and slides his hand up Kurt’s back as he leans in for a kiss. “Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” Kurt murmurs in reply, caught by Blaine’s eyes and the contentment in them. He can see the nervousness, too, and it’s mirrored in his own heart, because as much as they’ve been having lunch together at NYADA for months this is something new and more deliberate. This is a date they set up ahead of time, not just an assumption of spending time together.

That’s good, Kurt thinks. That’s them making an effort. That’s them trying. But it’s also new. It’s fraught with the potential of it _not_ working, even though planning perfect picnic lunches is something they’ve had mastered for years. It’s fraught, because it took them almost breaking apart to get here, and that possibility hasn’t just disappeared. They’re actively fighting against it, but it hasn’t disappeared, and they don’t know yet for sure that it will.

All the way to the very depths of his heart, Kurt desperately hopes that it will.

“You look great,” Blaine tells him, smoothing his hand over the collar of Kurt’s sweater before stepping back to take his seat.

“Thank you,” Kurt says. “I know you like this one.” He tips his head a little self-consciously, because he can’t quite believe he dressed for school - not a special night out but _school_ \- today specifically to catch Blaine’s eye, especially since he knows Blaine is attracted to him in anything and everything... but then he’ll take any advantage he can get if it’ll help them.

He quickly sets out the lunches he brought in pre-portioned, lidded plastic containers and puts a bundle of plastic silverware rolled in a napkin beside each plate. He pulls out two bottles of sparkling water as well.

“Wow,” Blaine says, his eyes wide but definitely pleased. “This is amazing. Thank you!”

“It’s our first lunch date,” Kurt says simply. “I figured we should start right.” Sitting, he unfolds his napkin and puts it in his lap, and as soon as his hands are free, Blaine catches his left one across the small table.

“Kurt, we’re having lunch together,” he says, looking right into Kurt’s eyes as he curls his fingers over Kurt’s engagement ring with an exhaled breath that sounds something like relief. “That’s all that matters, right? I mean, I love having a picnic with you like this, each of us bringing something, but... it’s just us. That hasn’t changed.” He doesn’t say the last sentence as a question, but Kurt can see it sitting unspoken in his eyes.

Kurt squeezes his hand in reply. “I know,” he says, and he tries to feel it, because on the one hand it’s _Blaine_ across from him, and Kurt’s loved him forever, but on the other hand the ground beneath their feet, which Kurt thought was so steady from their engagement, has turned out to be much more unstable than he could have believed. Even if they’re learning how to navigate it together, it’s deeply unsettling to him. He can feel the tremors in his heart. He can’t help but wonder what other shoe might drop that he doesn’t even know is up in the air.

This could be so much harder than either of them is ready for.

But he doesn’t want to think about that. He just wants to spend this time with Blaine, because it’s some of the little he’ll get today outside of class. So he smiles at his fiancé and lets go of his hand with another comforting squeeze of those warm fingers he knows so well. He watches as Blaine unwraps his own silverware and can’t help but notice the dark smudges of fatigue under Blaine’s eyes. “How are you?” he asks with concern. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” Blaine says. “I was just up way too late last night playing video games with Sam.”

A tiny, bitter part of Kurt simply can’t believe that Blaine feels better about doing that than living with him or even spending time with him, since Blaine had chosen to leave him with a lingering kiss after dinner was finished rather than even bring up the idea of staying over, but if the whole point is for them to have space apart from each other then it isn’t up to Kurt what Blaine does with his.

Even though he’s not sure video games are going to help Blaine grow up...

Kurt just nods and takes a bite of his cucumber salad, though. He might have opinions, but this isn’t one it will help at all to share. It’s not up to him what Blaine does. That’s part of the reason they’re apart, precisely so that it isn’t. If Blaine wants to stay up, just like if Kurt wants to stay at Elliott’s, that’s entirely their own call.

Besides, at least with their own apartment Sam and Blaine didn’t keep him up playing like they used to; Mercedes will have to deal with that problem instead. That’s definitely a plus.

“Mmm, this is good,” Blaine says around a mouthful of curried chicken sandwich. “When did you make it? I know it wasn’t in the fridge last night; I chased Sam out of there three times looking for something to eat before dinner.”

“Thank you for that. I knew he’d be grazing, so I made it last night after I finished my homework.” Kurt had read alone on his bed with the privacy curtain drawn, Rachel singing in the kitchen as she did the dishes, and the loft had felt huge for once, not cramped at all but just theirs - their space, their home, quiet and theirs. It had been a long time since he’d felt that way. “And then Rachel and I did late night facials.”

“No wonder I can’t stop looking at you,” Blaine says, smiling at him softly. “It’s like you’re glowing.”

Kurt can’t help but breathe out a laugh. “It was just a regular facial,” he says. “I didn’t even do a mask afterwards. Have you forgotten what I look like already?”

“I could _never_ forget what you look like, Kurt,” Blaine tells him with a gravity to his voice that makes Kurt take notice.

Kurt watches Blaine’s eyes for a moment, trying to decipher exactly what’s going on in them, if Blaine’s shaken like he is or just stung by a criticism Kurt doesn’t mean. He’s not sure. He settles on a gentle reply of, “I know.”

Blaine studies him back, his brow furrowed for a second, but he nods and goes back to his tiny sandwiches.

“That one’s deviled ham,” Kurt tells him, pointing to the one Blaine’s lifting to his mouth and trying to regain the conversation’s balance.

“I love your deviled ham.”

“I know. And I added some tarragon to the mayonnaise this time.” Kurt dips his head again and makes himself add, just a touch flirtily, “You know how I like to experiment.”

“Oh, I do,” Blaine says, smiling at him again with a distinct, appreciative twinkle in his eyes, as easy as that.

And for the most part it does feel easy, actually. It feels like them: talking, eating, and flirting. Kurt wouldn’t be surprised if Blaine burst into song, though since it’s NYADA that happens at lunch a lot; sometimes Blaine even has to wait his turn to sing.

Sitting here with him is so familiar, and it’s settling in a way Kurt hadn’t quite expected, even though he knows the whole point of Blaine moving out isn’t to change them fundamentally so much as to strengthen them, both apart and together. He knew that, but it’s one thing to know it and another to recognize Blaine as the same person he was just a few days before.

It’s another to see _them_ as the same relationship they were a few days before, only with room to breathe. Just like they planned.

So Kurt finds himself smiling back, and as they talk about their days, their homework, and the crazy family down the street from Blaine with _seven_ noisy miniature poodles they walk past his window at five every morning, he feels some of the tension in him unspool.

Maybe he doesn’t need to try quite so hard. He needs to listen and be focused, but they aren’t actually starting over. He isn’t trying to win Blaine back or having to plan an impressive first date. They’re just them, same as ever.

They’re just _them_ , and his heart melts with how much he loves it.

“They can’t be louder than Rachel running her morning scales,” Kurt says with a laugh that bubbles all of the way through him.

“Louder than her and Mercedes together,” Blaine replies.

Kurt shakes his head and licks the crumbs from the delicious cookie off of his fingers. “That isn’t possible! And I can’t believe you’d complain about Mercedes’ singing.”

“I’m not complaining, but she sings as much as Rachel, only at better times of day. You’ll see when you sleep over,” Blaine tells him, and Kurt stills and blinks at him, just for a moment.

It’s not that they haven’t talked about it; they will probably spend a couple of nights together in one apartment or another each week when their schedules allow. At least that was the plan. Even in their worst moments, Kurt felt the pull of Blaine night and day, and he still does. He wants his space, but he wants _Blaine_. Even with these few days apart to calm things, he feels the need for private reassurance and the promise of Blaine’s arms around him all night long... though he knows it’s probably because these are the _first_ few days.

He wants to know this will work. He wants to know they’re still as connected as ever, just happier. He wants to prove it.

“When will I sleep over?” he asks softly, the words hushed because the answer is so important. They need to figure out how to make this work. They have to start on the same page. And he’s not quite sure what that page should be.

“Soon,” Blaine says, like that’s simple for him, too. “If you want?”

Kurt nods. “I do.”

“Let me - “ Blaine pulls out his phone and scrolls through his calendar. “Tomorrow I have a dinner study session, and Thursday Sam wants to go out for what he’s calling Blamcedes Movie Night, but Friday?”

“I have a shift at the diner ‘til midnight,” Kurt says with a sigh, which didn’t used to be a problem, because he could just crawl into bed with Blaine when he got back. Now it’s something to get in their way. “Saturday, then?”

“We could do Saturday,” Blaine says. “Or I could come to the diner Friday night to do my homework and come home with you at the end of your shift, and then we could have brunch that morning at the place around the corner and go to the flea market you like so much and spend Saturday night at my apartment.” His head jerks up from focusing on his phone, and he looks at Kurt with a touch of trepidation in his wide eyes, like he’s worried he’s gone too far.

A part of Kurt feels like it might be a little much. He doesn’t want to set the precedent that all weekend every weekend is for Blaine, because it’s a slippery slope toward getting them back to exactly where they just were.

And yet he also knows he needs to hold on where he can. Blaine’s going to find his own life and his own friends, and their tidy, intertwined life together is going to pull apart. They’re going to drift apart some. He wants that, but he also wants the time together, too. He should take it where he can.

He should just take what he wants if Blaine wants it, too, shouldn’t he? Isn’t that the point? For them to be happy?

“Will that be enough time for you to take care of the things you need to do this weekend?” he asks. The corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he could smile. “And heaven help me, Blaine, if you go for the easy joke and tell me I’m one of the things you need to ‘do’...”

Blaine sets down his phone and reaches for Kurt’s hand; Kurt offers it to him without hesitation across the table, instantly grounded by the touch of Blaine’s fingers. “You are still one of the most important things I need to spend time on, Kurt,” Blaine says firmly. “I _love_ you. I still want to sing with you and dance with you and sleep with you and wake up with you and kiss you and love you. None of that’s changed just because we don’t live together.”

Kurt watches Blaine’s eyes, sees the truth and longing in them, sees the love, and nods. “I want that, too,” he says softly.

“Is that too much time for _you_?” Blaine asks after a second’s hesitation. “I can come by Saturday for brunch or later on instead.”

Two weeks ago, Kurt might have felt a little trapped by the thought of spending two nights and a day with Blaine without any sort of break to breathe his own air without bubbly beverages or hair gel, but knowing that on Sunday night he’ll be home in his own bed again it actually feels like a nice thought to have that much time together. They won’t be rushed, they won’t have to wake up early or worry about getting home too late, and they can catch up on their TV and still have time to go for a walk in the afternoon. He can be wrapped up fully in Blaine, both literally and figuratively, and enjoy every minute of it, and then he’ll be able to go home and only have to worry about himself.

It sounds _wonderful_.

“No, it’s not too much at all,” Kurt tells him without even a touch of unease.

Blaine’s smile flips onto its fullest brightness like Kurt’s words were a switch, and he squeezes Kurt’s hand again. “Then let’s do it.”

“Yes,” Kurt says with a giddy nod, because this plan sounds _perfect_. Something in his chest goes buoyant and light, like he could lift off of the ground.

“Okay,” Blaine says, and somehow his face turns even more radiant.

“Okay,” Kurt echoes and he gives himself a moment just to smile at him before he turns back to his lunch.

Kurt is prepared to fight for what they have. He knows that without a sliver of a doubt. He’s not afraid to fight for something so important and precious, not because he wants brunch and access to sex - though he certainly enjoys them both - but because he’s all too aware that if he doesn’t pay attention to what they want there won’t be a them at all. But this isn’t a fight. This doesn’t hurt. This is simple.

It might become a fight to make it work, he knows, but it isn’t one yet.

Kurt knows far better than Blaine can even imagine what building a life in New York looks like. There are endless people here, endless possibilities. It’s so easy to get caught up and drift away. He knows all too well how hard it is to stay anchored to your past; he certainly had his own temptations and got caught up in his own opportunities when he got here, and it pulled him further away from taking care of what was important to him than he realized.

So he knows it’s possible that as Blaine stretches his wings and finds his own way that he won’t want to stay anchored at all. He’ll find new things to want. New people.

But that whisper of worry is not something he can focus on today. Blaine’s going to do what he’s going to do, and so he is.

All Kurt can do is love him, listen to him, and hope with every fiber of his being that they’re both happy enough for it all to work, because even if Blaine breaks Kurt’s heart again Blaine will still always have it.

“Oh, I have something else of yours,” Kurt suddenly remembers, digging in his bag with his free hand.

“Something _else_?” Blaine asks with a little frown.

Kurt shakes his head and pulls out a neat packet of white tissue paper. “I found this under the bed when I was moving things around yesterday.”

Blaine pulls his hands back and opens the paper to reveal a blue spotted bow tie, one Kurt distinctly remembers tugging from his throat one night in a fit of hunger and need and then tossing aside. They haven’t seen it for a month.

When he found it last night it had hurt almost as much as seeing Blaine’s pictures after they broke up, a reminder of something he’d once treasured and didn’t have anymore... but right now, across the table from this man he loves, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s returning a possession that is no longer partly his as he thought he would. He thought he might feel unpleasantly like he’s giving back his ex’s things, but instead he feels like he’s taking care of Blaine, taking care of his things, keeping their lives entwined.

Blaine smiles down at the tie for a moment, and then he wraps it up carefully again. Instead of putting it in his own bag, though, he pushes it across the table toward Kurt. “I think you should take it back to your apartment.”

“It’s not really my style,” Kurt says slowly, his hand closing over the packet, anyway.

“No,” Blaine says with a little laugh. “But you could keep it there for me. You know, in case of a bow tie emergency.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows in disbelief and amusement. “A bow tie emergency? Really, Blaine?”

“It could happen!” Blaine says. “You know how many ties you’ve wrinkled taking off of me since I’ve lived with you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time,” Kurt reminds him with a pointed look and maybe a hint of a smile at the memories.

“I didn’t,” Blaine replies with feeling and a warm promise in his eyes that makes Kurt’s blood heat. “But I also had something else to change into afterwards, because my clothes were already there.”

Kurt’s hand tightens over the tie, crinkling the pale paper. He’d thought his engagement ring was a promise and a symbol of what their relationship would be: steady and forever. Maybe the tie is one, too. Blaine might have moved out, but they _are_ engaged. They _are_ together. Even if they can’t live in the same apartment, they’re still sharing their lives. They’re still sharing their things, just a little.

And if Blaine drifts away - when, when, Kurt reminds himself; Blaine has to drift away, he has to grow and drift and be fully himself, they both do - their lives are still intertwined. They still _want_ them to be.

“I know we aren’t living together anymore,” Kurt says slowly, tucking the tie back into his bag with his heart in his throat to make this offer, because he doesn’t want to push too fast, but it seems right to do this much. “But let me know if you want me to keep a drawer open for you. For anything you want to have at the loft.”

Blaine stares at him for a moment, and his eyes go liquid and deep. He nudges his foot against Kurt’s, sliding their calves together beneath the table, and says to Kurt’s relief and with a low, breathy overtone that makes him sounds like he’s _moved_ by the suggestion, “I’d love that. Thank you.”

Kurt’s smile tugs at the corner of his mouth again. “Anything besides the SodaStream. That’s not negotiable.”

Ducking his head, Blaine laughs. “Fine.” He lifts his eyebrows in a teasing challenge. “Will one drawer be enough for you in my apartment? I know how you like your things.”

“One is fine,” Kurt tells him, meeting those eyebrows head-on. “And a few inches of closet space. And possibly some counter space in the bathroom, but I’m willing to give on that.”

“I love you,” Blaine says, soft and maybe even a little relieved, too. His smile goes almost dopey, besotted, and it does something wonderful and steadying to Kurt’s heart to see it.

“I love you, too,” Kurt replies. “But you haven’t accepted my terms. Do we have a deal?”

Blaine reaches for his hand again, not to shake it but to hold it. “We have a deal. I can’t make any promises about the counter space, but I’m happy with the rest.”

Kurt takes a slow breath and lets it out, exhales some of his sadness and inhales some of the happiness radiating off of Blaine across from him. Maybe they can’t live together right now, maybe they’re not actually anywhere near the perfect future they thought they’d gotten to, maybe they failed when they tried the first time around, but they have this much. They have each other. They have their own lives, but they still have each other, and they aren’t letting go. They have laughter and love and even drawers in each other’s apartments. That’s what matters.

Kurt sits up straighter in his chair, his shoulders lighter than they have been for weeks. Even if it is going to be work to keep talking and figuring things out between them, he can’t help but feel confident they’re already on their way to being pretty good at it.

So he holds tight to Blaine’s hand, the shared promise in his engagement right pressed between their fingers, and says with relief and hope all wrapped up in one, “I’m happy with it, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I am spoiler-free! Please don't tell me anything about what's coming ahead! Thanks! :)


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